


Happy Halloween!

by spooderboyandtincan



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Adorable Peter Parker, Aunt May is the best, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Halloween, How Do I Tag, Platonic Cuddling, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Pumpkin carving, Scared Peter Parker, Worried Tony Stark, dad tony stark, no starker, pumpkin patch, tw knives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:47:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27332161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spooderboyandtincan/pseuds/spooderboyandtincan
Summary: Peter, Tony, and May's amazing, eventful day of picking pumpkins, carving said pumpkins, and getting spooked by watching Buzzfeed Unsolved.
Relationships: May Parker & Tony Stark, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 3
Kudos: 77





	Happy Halloween!

**Author's Note:**

> Here are the actual episodes of Buzzfeed Unsolved mentioned in this fic! [The Terrifying Axeman of New Orleans](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YrMGIqecu0Y&t=332s) and [The Horrors of Pennhurst Asylum.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BuX6-lvUwd0) As a warning, both of these videos describe both very grisly and gory things, so please watch them with caution! 
> 
> (Also, the author in no way claims to own or use these videos for commercial property. Just wanted to include them!)

Peter was having a great day, even when an apple tried to give him a concussion. 

Normally, he would have caught the traitorous fruit, but there were several families around who might have noticed his outstanding reflexes, so with some split second thinking he let the apple bounce off his head.

_“Ow!”_ Peter massaged the top of his head. Tony and May turned to him, both slightly concerned. “I think this tree is trying to kill me.”

“Oh, _spare us!”_ Tony said to the tree, reaching out to ruffle Peter’s curls. “Not my darling son! Take me instead!” 

Peter rolled his eyes at the dorky genius, actually finding himself feeling a little bad for the poor apple tree. “Don’t worry,” he muttered, patting the rough bark. “It wasn’t your fault.” 

There was something very adorable about watching Peter trying to comfort a tree, both Tony and May observed. Their kid’s heart was so pure and kind it was blinding. 

Peter snatched an apple off a low-hanging branch and, before Tony or May could stop him, bit into it. “Wow,” he mumbled through a mouthful of fruit, “this’s really good! Can we pick some?”

“That’s what we’re here for!” May sang. “Did you check for worms before you bit into that, Petey?”

_“Worms?!”_

Tony shook his head in fond exasperation. Peter spat his mouthful of apple on the ground in disgust, chucking the half eaten red orb to the side. “Ew ew ew ew _ew!”_

“Buddy, I’m pretty sure there weren’t worms in there,” Tony suggested.

Peter shrugged. “But are you _sure?_ Now we have to pick more apples just in case they’re all wormy.” He stuck out his tongue in a mature display of unhappiness. 

“Thought you liked picking apples,” he questioned, suddenly worried that Peter had only been _pretending_ to enjoy himself.

“No, no I do! It’s really fun! But now I can’t eat any,” he pouted. “I’m so huuuungry.”

He frowned in concern. “Why don’t we get some food and come back, kiddo? We can grab an extra coat from the car while we do.”

“Mr. Stark, I’m already wearing, like three of yours,” Peter laughed. He gestured to the layers of puffy jackets he was bundled up in, along with his favorite Spider-Man hat and thin black gloves.

“Actually, I think you need a scarf,” Tony observed. “We can’t have any spider-baby popsicles on our hands, now can we?”

Peter rolled his eyes. Tony began fussing over him like a mother hen, wrapping his own scarf around his neck and zipping up his third coat. He took the boy’s small hands in his and winced, rubbing them to bring some warmth. 

“You’re gonna lose fingers if we don’t get you some better gloves, bud.”

“I’m _fiiiine.”_

Peter heaved the bag of crisp, red apples into his arms with ease. Tony and May grabbed their own separate ones and heaved them over their shoulders with a lot less ease. They headed toward the muddy dirt road, lugging their apples and stopping for a moment to admire some chickens. 

“Ooooh!” Peter exclaimed suddenly, spotting a glimpse of orange behind the tall pine trees. “Mr. Stark, May! There’re pumpkins!” He jogged off. 

“Don’t you wanna get food before this, Pete?” Tony called, following the boy.

“I’ll eat the pumpkins!” 

“Look out for worms!” May teased. Tony found himself thinking of the classic nursery rhyme, _Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater._

May found the perfect pumpkin almost at once. It was on the opposite side of the small field under a beautiful towering oak tree with red and golden leaves still on its branches. The pumpkin was a beautiful shade of dark orange and wonderfully round. She held it against the chest like it was a baby. 

Tony didn’t have any particular pumpkin in mind that he wanted so he decided to let Peter choose for him. 

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna get the wrong one,” Peter worried. 

“It won’t be the wrong one, kiddo,” Tony promised.

“Get that lumpy one, it looks like his head!” May advised from across the pumpkin patch. Peter sniggered.

“I’m offended. My head is perfectly oval-shaped,” Tony objected. 

“Smooth as a shark,” Peter muttered to himself, completely missing the perplexed look from his father-figure.

He picked up the lumpy pumpkin and then began to scavenge for a second one, humming. “This is Halloween, this is Halloween, pumpkins scream in the dead of night… ooh.” Peter knelt down and began to inspect this potential nominee. 

It was huge. Wide and tall with a round face and a flat back. The stem was long and twisting. The color was beautiful.

It. Was. _Perfect._

“I found it!” he yelled. May and Tony turned to long at him and Peter displayed his pumpkin proudly. 

“Congrats,” said May, her grin wide. Tony applauded. 

“Can we get it?”

“Of course, Roo.” He smiled, kneeling down to take the lumpy pumpkin while Peter stood up with his own. “Do you wanna get another?” 

“Are you sure? I mean, I kinda do…”

“Yes, Petey, I’m sure.” Tony bent to press a quick kiss to his forehead. “Actually, I’d be _delighted_ if you got another one. Really.” He loved seeing Peter so happy over a simple fruit. (Vegetable? Gourd?) Tony would gladly buy thousands of pumpkins if Peter could always be this happy. 

Soon Peter had selected two more pumpkins, a wide, squat one, and round, light orange one. They made their way back to the parking lot and the barn, where lots of fresh produce stands were set up. 

There was a beautiful, towering willow tree that Peter admired, watching its long limbs sway in the wind peacefully. He breathed in deeply, inhaling the scent of rain and hay and something just distinctly fall. He trotted back to where his family stood in a line to buy their pumpkins and leaned into Tony, letting him wrap strong arms around him and hug him close. 

They bought their pumpkins and sat down at a picnic bench under the willow tree and basked in the sunlight. Tony left to the car and came back with a picnic basket akin to the ones in cartoons.

Peter’s eyes lit up when he noticed the mac and cheese in a plastic container and immediately he dug in. After inhaling his pasta, he dug through the basket. His eyes sparkled like stars. 

“Rhodey made us brownies!” Colonel Rhodes’s brownies were the _best._ They were gooey and somehow always warm, with extra chocolate-chips and an oreo in the middle. Rhodey had _drowned_ them in jack-o’-lantern shaped sprinkles. He had even included a bottle of whipped cream, though most of it had probably been used on the current brownie Peter had just bit into.

“Oh, yummy,” May said, helping herself to a large one. Tony took his own and sprayed almost as much whipped cream on it as Peter had. 

Before he took a bite, he laughed. “Petey, how did you get whipped-cream on your _forehead?”_ He balled up his sleeve and wiped it off. Peter squirmed away.

He played a quick rhythm on his pumpkin before glancing toward the various stands by the barn. “We should get apple cider,” he said, having a sudden realization. “I guess they probably wouldn’t go very good with brownies but maybe with pumpkin pie or something…?”

“Good idea, bud. How about some candy apples while we’re at it?”

_“Yesss.”_

Peter was bouncing in his seat while he waited for May and Tony to finish their sandwiches. He helped himself to a few more delicious brownies, trying to savor every bite. (And failing because they were so _good.”_

When they finished their food, they took a quick moment to put their pumpkins in the trunk of the car, then Peter led the way to the barn. At the back of the big room there was a large assortment of fresh produce, which May made a beeline to. On the right wall were four tall refrigerators, chock full of apple cider. 

“Why are they in milk cartons?” Peter wondered, opening the door and pulling the juice out. “Here!”

“Just one? You need to hydrate, young man,” he teased, pulling out three more jugs.

“I won’t just drink apple cider, Mr. Stark.”

“Actually, I think your blood is gonna be 75% apples, kiddo.”

“Carrots or asparagus, Pete?” May called. 

“Carrots?” 

“Good choice, honey.”

Tony noticed wonderfully red candy apples displayed on one of those cupcake stands he always saw at fancy parties. He pointed them out to Peter, who grinned and asked if they could have some.

“That’s what we’re here for, Petey-Pie.” 

The young man at the stand wrapped the tree apples individually with cellophane and placed them in a bag. 

“That’s smart,” Peter said as they joined May at the checkout line. “Apples probably wouldn’t taste good with a paper bag.”

The cashier recognized Tony when they bought their food. Her hand flew to her open mouth and she shook her head in amazement. “You’re… you’re….” 

He offered a smile. Peter inched behind him and grabbed his hand. Tony squeezed his hand comfortingly and moved in front of him so no one could see his face. 

The cashier began to check out their items robotically, staring at Tony for an uncomfortably long time before she blinked and asked, “Do you want a bag, sir?”

Once they stuffed the groceries into the trunk of Tony’s car, Peter admired the farm one last time. The big willow tree swayed gracefully in the brisk wind as if it were saying farewell. 

Peter crawled into the back seat and slammed the door, curling up and shivering. Tony glanced in the back mirror and quickly moved to turn up the heat. 

He rested his chin on the edge of the window. The position was far from comfortable but at least he could watch the trees fly past as they drove. 

“You okay back there, Petey?” Tony asked, sounding concerned.

“‘M good. Just thinking,” he mumbled. It was hard to talk with his jaw pressed against a hard surface. 

“You sure, bud?” Tony _still_ sounded worried. Peter sighed.

“Stop worrying,” he groaned. “I’m _fine.”_

“Okay, Petey, I trust you.” If he hadn’t been driving the car he would have held up his hands in mock surrender. “But you know that you can come to me for _anything,_ right? Even if it’s just a stubbed toe, okay?”

“I know, Mr. Stark, really.” 

A snore filled the car, and they both laughed when they looked to May and realized she was already asleep. 

“So kiddie, whatcha thinkin’ about?” he asked. 

“How I’m gonna carve my pumpkin!” 

~~~~~

Peter dramatically threw the three pumpkins he was carrying down onto the kitchen island, pretending to wipe sweat off his forehead. He snickered when May rolled her eyes.

Peter took off his layers of coats and threw them on the couch, hanging his scarf up and then ripping off his hat. His hair frizzed everywhere and Tony laughed, his eyes soft and adoring. He flattened it down with his hand and pulled Peter into a crushing hug, bending to kiss his still slightly puffy curls.

They sat down at the kitchen island and chose their respective pumpkins. Peter looked around. “Where’re the knives?” he asked. 

“Oh, I know.” May stood up and rummaged through the upper cabinets, bringing out an orange carton. “Here!”

Tony watched nervously as Peter grabbed a carving knife from the box and stabbed the top of his pumpkin without any regard for his personal safety. 

“Careful, bubba,” he warned. He was about to take the knife from Peter’s small hands and bend it into pieces for being so dangerous and trying to hurt his kid. “No lost limbs today, okay?”

Peter laughed and continued to cut the top of his pumpkin. He yanked the stem out and sliced off the stringy guts. He took an orange plastic scooper and started scraping the seeds and guts out of the inside. Tony took his own pumpkin and did the same, keeping a watchful eye on his reckless kid all the same.

“What are you carving Pete?” May asked. 

“Secret,” Peter grinned, turning the pumpkin so they couldn’t see it. “You can see later!” 

“Well, _fine._ What about you, Tony?”

Tony hadn’t given much thought about it yet. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he had an idea that might work. “Secret,” he said.

May sighed in amused exasperation. “Suit yourself, lumpy. _I’m_ going with the classic.” She took a purple sharpie and started drawing.

“Why aren’t there Halloween Carols?” Peter wondered aloud. “I don’t know like, any spooky songs and it’s sad.”

“There’s that one, um…” Tony trailed off. He did know the actual name of the song, but the look on Peter’s face would be priceless. “Spooky Scary Pumpkins? Ghosts? Is that it?”

Peter slowly raised his head, his eyes wide. _“What?”_

“You know, that one you’re always singing,” May said, joining in. “‘Spooky scary pumpkins’ sounds right.” 

Peter groaned and buried his head in his arms. “No. This isn’t happeniiiiiing.”

“I believe the correct title is ‘Spooky Scary Skeletons, Boss,” said FRIDAY’s disembodied voice. 

_“Thank_ you!” Peter threw up his hands in relief. “Spooky scary pumpkins. Ugh. Thanks for the nightmares.”

Tony ruffled his hair. “FRI, play it for us uncultured zombies, will ya?”

The first few notes of the song played and Peter started headbanging exaggeratedly, doing a dance in his seat. “Such a bop,” he said to himself, then went back to carving his pumpkin. 

_A bop?_ Tony decided not to ask. He sketched out his idea on the pumpkin with a light pencil and rummaged through their carving tools.

“Mr. Stark, you didn’t get the guts out!” Peter protested.

“Don’t worry, bud, you’ll see. Trust me.”

Tony finally found what he was looking for. “A- _ha!”_

“Is that..?” Peter leaned over. “Is that a dremel drill? Isn’t that for like, trimming dog nails?” 

“One of its many uses!” Tony switched it on. “Carving time.”

“Ooh. That’s cool, I wanna try!”

He handed the drill over to him. Peter turned his pumpkin around to the back and started carving. “Oh, so it only gets like the fleshy parts! The flesh? So then it kinda glows through.”

“That’s right,” he said. “It looks pretty cool when you put a candle in it.” Tony took the drill and got back to work. Their song was still playing in the background, and at some parts Peter would do a dance and sing along. 

After about fifteen minutes of ridiculous chatter and multiple songs played, May jumped up. “Finished!”

“Already?!” Peter exclaimed. “Lemme see!”

“Just a sec.” May ran off and grabbed a candle from one of the drawers in the living room, then hurried back. She put it in the pumpkin and lit it carefully. “Ta-da!”

“Oooh!” 

May had carved a traditional pumpkin with a big, spiky jaw, a triangle nose, and big triangle eyes. She had taken seeds and put them in the corners of the eyes to act as pupils. 

“Oh, he’s cross eyed!” Peter laughed. “That’s really cool.” 

Tony grinned. “Clever. I like it.”

“Thanks, Tony. I think I’ll borrow that drill from you when you’re done. I want to make a flower on the back.”

“Sure.” Tony continued working on the intricate design, squinting and trying to make it as precise as possible. He caught Peter trying to sneak a peak and shooed him off cheerfully. 

When Tony looked up to check on Peter, he nearly cooed. His kid had the most _adorable_ look of concentration on his face. His tongue poked out between his lips and his brow was furrowed. Peter worked carefully, selecting the tools he knew would work best and using them delicately.

When Peter looked up again, the sky was considerably darker. He looked at the clock. “How is it already five?!” No _way_ had he been working for one and a half hours straight. 

Tony blinked and snapped out of his stupor. “Huh. Time flies, I guess. I’m about done, how about you, kiddo?”

“Almost… I kinda messed up a few details but I think it looks okay!” He scraped the pumpkin more and looked up. “There! Where are the candles?”

“Here you go.” May smiled and handed him a red candle that smelled like cinnamon. He took the lighter and dipped his hand in the pumpkin while Tony watched anxiously. 

“Don’t burn yourself, baby.” He bit his lip in worry. “Be careful.”

“I _am!”_

May dimmed the lights and pulled the curtains shut. The candle glowed brightly in the dark room and Peter turned the pumpkin to face them. 

May gasped. _“Oh_. Oh my goodness! Peter, that’s gorgeous!” 

The boy blushed in the candlelight. “Thanks.” He looked to Tony, who had been strangely silent this whole time. 

“Mr. Stark?”

“Petey….” Tony felt his arc reactor and in his mind, compared it to Peter’s intricate, detailed carving that he had spent so much time on. “Petey… you made my reactor?” 

“Uh-huh! I kinda messed up some parts, but I think it looks pretty good. What do you think?”

“I… I… oh my god, baby, I _love_ it. I love it so much.” He pulled his kid into a hug, squeezing him tight. Tony kissed his head and blinked away the tears in his eyes. Peter, surprised at first, hugged him back. “Thank you, Petey.”

“No problem,” he said, voice muffled in Tony’s sweatshirt. “Does it look good?”

“It looks _beautiful,_ baby.”

“I had no idea you could make something like this,” May murmured, tracing the arc reactor with her fingers. “Wow, honey. This is spectacular!”

“Thanks.” Peter’s face heated from the praise and he pushed his head further into Tony’s chest. “What did you make?”

“I was wondering when you’d ask.” Reluctantly, he let go of Peter (but not without another forehead kiss) and grabbed the lighter, He lit the candle, turned it around, and-

It was Peter’s turn to gasp. “Is that me?!” He admired the glowing spider emblem with wide eyes. It matched the one on his suit _exactly._ “Oh my god!”

Tony beamed. “Do you see the resemblance?” 

“I’m pretty sure you just stole my suit and like, made it into a pumpkin. It’s so cool! I love it, thank you!”

“It was my pleasure,” he said graciously, giving a little bow. “Where do you think we should put them?”

“Um, I dunno. Where’s a good spot?”

Tony looked around. Eventually they decided to put them on the mantle above the fireplace. Peter worried they might rot, but the man assured him they wouldn’t and turned off the fireplace just to ease his kid’s fear.

Peter took a look at the room. A few days ago he and Tony had draped bright orange and purple lights around the room and Peter had added some webs that would definitely leave stains. There was a black spiderweb table runner on the coffee table, and in the kitchen there stood a plastic cauldron filled with dry ice. Ghosts made of tissue and paper mache balls hung from strings by the fireplace and above the couch and tv. Peter took a black and orange oreo from a pumpkin shaped plate cheerfully. 

“When’s dinner?” he asked, realizing how hungry he was getting.

“Are you hungry, bud? We can order a pizza, how does that sound?” Tony replied, smoothing down his curls and then ruffling them so they puffed back up again. 

“Great!” Peter patted his curls back down and flopped on the couch, taking out his phone. 

Only fifteen minutes later the pizza arrived. Peter jumped up happily and opened the box.

“It’s pumpkin shaped!” he exclaimed. “That’s so cool!” The pepperoni slices had been arranged in jack o’ lantern face and Peter laughed. He took four big slices for himself and sat down at the table while May joined him. Tony poured three glasses of apple cider and gave the biggest one to his kid, then sat down next to him. 

Peter wolfed down his pizza in the blink of an eye and downed the cider just as quickly. May and Tony started on their second slices while he started on his fifth. 

He was about to ask May if she knew that some spiders had blue blood when her phone rang. She smiled apologetically at them and stood up to take the call.

“Sandra? Oh, hi.” She wandered into the living room. “Uh-huh? Oh, that’s too bad, I’m so sorry.” A pause. “I could. Yeah, no problem. It’s okay. I hope everyone feels better.” May put her phone down. 

“I’m sorry, guys. I have to fill in for a friend for a few hours.” She sighed. “Her twins are sick and she really needs this. I have to go but I’ll be back soon, okay?” May grabbed her coat and gloves. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” 

“It’s okay, Aunt May,” Peter said, offering a smile. “What time will you be back?”

“Around two.” She titled his head back to kiss his forehead. “Get some sleep, both of you. No scary movies. Larb you!” She headed toward the elevator.

“Larb you too!” he called back as the doors closed behind her. Peter sighed. 

The room was oddly silent without May’s laughter, but soon Peter started chatting and laughing and they relaxed into their normal banter. 

When they finished their pumpkin pizza, they sat down on the couch. Peter snuggled into Tony’s side and yawned, grabbing his Starkpad. He scrolled to a video and poked Tony’s shoulder.

“What’s this, kiddo?” he asked, wrapping an arm around Peter’s shoulders and pulling him closer.

“Buzzfeed Unsolved,” he mumbled. “That’s Ryan and that’s Shane.” 

“Huh. That’s cool. They solve mysteries?”

“Sometimes. They don’t really solve them, I mean, it’s called Buzzfeed _Un_ solved, but they do talk about suspects or theories or whatever. Sometimes they do supernatural ones and they’re really funny. And spooky,” Peter rambled. Tony chuckled and turned his attention to the video.

_The Haunted Halls of Waverly Hills,_ read the title. As the creepy introduction played, Tony frowned. The two men he assumed were Ryan and Shane were walking around a long, spooky hallway with cameras that made everything look like it was tinged green.

“You sure this isn’t too scary, Pete?” he asked, not wanting his kid to have nightmares. 

“It’s _not,”_ Peter grumbled. “I’m fine. This one is cool!”

“If you’re sure, Roo.” Tony still sounded skeptical. He was prepared to turn off that tablet the second Peter showed any sign of fright, but he never did.

“This week on Buzzfeed Unsolved we explore Waverly Hills Sanatorium as part of our ongoing investigation, ‘are ghosts real?’” said Ryan.

The camera panned to Shane as he shook his head. They went on to explain the history of the sanatorium. Peter giggled at their many jokes, especially when Shane made snarky remarks. Tony deduced that Shane was the sceptic while Ryan strongly believed in paranormal happenings. He was inclined to side with Shane, but Peter looked just as nervous as Ryan was when he walked down an empty hallway all alone. 

“Pete, are you _sure_ this isn’t too scary?” he repeated after a particularly gruesome description of the horrors that took place in that old building.

_“Yes,_ Mr. Stark.” Despite his annoyed tone, Peter was smiling. 

“Okay, okay.” Tony turned to press a tender kiss to his temple. “I just don’t want you to have nightmares.”

“I _won’t._ It’s okay.” Peter flopped against him and pressed the next video. “Promise.” He yawned.

The videos, Tony admitted, were pretty cool. He liked how they listed theories and possibilities instead of just leaving the mysteries unended. The two men were funny and entertaining, and he found himself enjoying the videos. 

By now they had watched at least nine or ten episodes. It was easy to get lost in all the videos, which were only twenty minutes long each, but when you watched a few more, time had passed faster than you expected. When Tony checked the time he was surprised to find it was already nine-thirty. 

“You tired, bubba?” he asked gently as Peter yawned. “You’ve had a pretty big day.”

Peter shrugged. “A little.”

“Do you wanna go to bed now, sweetheart?”

“Sure.” He stretched and yawned again. “Tomorrow’s Halloween, right?”

“That’s right,” he hummed. He helped Peter stand up and they made their way down the hallway. “Good night, baby,” he murmured, pulling him into a hug. 

Peter felt a warm kiss pressed to his curls. “G’night.” He hugged Mr. Stark and stumbled into his bedroom, rubbing his eyes. 

Tony watched with love shining bright in his eyes. He headed to his own bed and climbed under the covers, curling up and turning on the bedside lamp. He grabbed his glasses and perched them on the edge of his nose, planning to get a little reading done before he went to bed. 

He couldn’t help but worry about his kid, who had just binge-watched ten episodes about terrible deaths and tortures. “FRI, tell me if he can’t fall asleep, or if he does and wakes up. Just tell me if he’s scared.”

“Certainly, boss,” the AI said smoothly. Tony nodded and began reading, though he barely took in a word, much more focused on the boy in the room next to him. 

~~~~~

Peter _thought_ he had been tired. He had nearly unhinged his jaw from yawning so much. But now, he lay in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, unable to sleep.

He shifted around, trying to get comfortable. Heavy blankets tangled around his legs as he thrashed. Peter sighed and mashed his pillow over his face.

After what felt like an hour (but in reality was only fifteen minutes) Peter rolled over and sat up, yawning and scratching the back of his neck.

He grabbed his Starkpad and earbuds. Peter only used one, because two was too overwhelming. He went to youtube and clicked on the first unsolved episode he found, just wanting to sleep.

The intro played loudly in his ear and Peter relaxed.

_“This week on Buzzfeed Unsolved we’ll cover the Axeman Killer of New Orleans,”_ said Ryan Bergara. _“One of the strangest serial killer cases I’ve ever read.”_

_“And you’ve read a lot,”_ Shane replied.

Ryan explained the timeline, which began in 1918 in, of course, New Orleans and ended around eighteen months later. He detailed the mysterious and morbid attempted killings, saying, _“In chilling fashion, he only seemed to strike people while they slept in their beds.”_

Just to make sure, Peter peeked out the curtain. He shivered and hid further under his blankets. He snickered quietly when Shane made a joke right off the bat.

When the video ended, he turned it off and lay back down. He scrubbed his eyes, feeling refreshed but sleepy at the same time.

Except now, he was having a _lot_ harder of a time falling asleep.

Peter stared at his bedroom door nervously, expecting someone to burst in brandishing an axe. 

It never came.

He watched apprehensively, knowing this was stupid, and rolled over so he faced the wall.

Now his back felt even more exposed. Peter shivered and faced the door in a panic, swearing he heard something.

Nothing.

He sighed shakily and curled up under the blankets, his heart racing and his eyes wide. The shadows seemed to dance and his eyes flitted from corner to corner as he expected some creature with razor sharp teeth to come leaping out of them. 

A chair, which he had thrown some dirty clothes on the other day, now looked like some skeletal creature with a huge head that could swallow him in one bite.

Peter, in a sudden burst of adrenaline, threw off his covers and sprinted the few feet down the hall to Tony’s room, the door slamming open. Peter leapt onto Tony’s bed, shaking, and wrapped his arms around the man.

Tony went rigid with surprise. _“Peter?”_ He straightened up, squeezing his kid tight protectively and looking murderously around the room for the source of Peter’s fear. “What is it, baby? Are you okay? Are you hurt?” 

Peter shook his head and crawled shakily into his lap, pressing his face into his chest. “Petey? What happened?” His voice was soft and gentle but somehow worried and protective at the same time. “Did you have a nightmare?”

Peter sniffed and blinked a few tears out of his eyes. His cheeks heated in embarrassment. He wilted in Tony’s arms both out of shame and overwhelming relief that he was _safe_ now. 

“Oh, _baby,”_ he cooed. “You’re okay, I got you, you’re okay. I’m here, shh.” He kissed his delicate brown curls. “I’m here, I’m here.”

Peter sighed in relief and squashed his nose against Tony’s reactor. “‘M sorry,” he mumbled.

“Why are you sorry, bubba? You didn’t do anything wrong, okay?” Tony murmured. 

Peter nodded. “I- I just got _scared.”_ His voice cracked and he tried not to cry. 

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s okay, you’re okay. I got you. Nothing’s gonna happen to you, ‘kay?” He brushed his fingers through his curls. “Pete?”

A soft snore filled the peaceful quiet of the room. Peter’s breathing was slow and even, his face lax. Tony’s face softened. He carefully maneuvered Peter’s limp body under the war covers and wrapped his arms around him, pressing his nose into his curls. “I won’t ever let anything hurt you, kay?” He sighed in contentment, holding his kid tightly. “I love you so much baby.”

Tony’s eyes fluttered shut. “G’night, sweetheart.”


End file.
